


Every Little Thing She Does (Is Magic)

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Sharing a Bed, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: “I’m sorry, Granger… you want to what?”“Go together! To all the weddings—it’ll work out perfectly. People will stop asking about my love life, and if you happen to meet a girl you want to take home, I can be your wing woman!”__Draco agrees to be Hermione's date for wedding season. He doesn't expect to fall in love.





	1. Neville & Hannah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden/gifts).

> Happy Birthday, raven_maiden!!! Thanks so much for being my beta for Still Life and partner in (Dramione) crime. I hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> This is mostly written and will be 4 chapters, so I'm hoping to stick to a once a week schedule. Check out the playlist, [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5n3I9AtlkOQLlOt4MtHhYy?si=gGaPGl2PQ2GcXV5ARchHHA).
> 
> Thanks to obsessivepropulsive for the beta!

Of all the weddings Draco Malfoy thought he might get invited to, this certainly wasn’t one of them. He never expected to see Neville Longbottom again after Hogwarts, let alone be invited to (and choose to attend) his wedding. He wasn’t even quite sure who Hannah Abbot was, but she looked pretty enough in her white dress, fairy lights woven into her hair.

The ceremony had been boring as predicted, but now was the part of the evening Draco had been looking forward to—the reception, complete with a gaggle of eligible witches in his age range. He hung back by the bar, leaning against it with one arm, sipping on his firewhisky as he scoped out the selection.

Ever since Astoria Greengrass had broken off their engagement for someone who “actually wanted to get married,” Draco had been taking things far less seriously. As in, no one stays for longer than one night. It’s not like he’d shagged a hoard of women—he certainly hadn’t beaten Blaise’s record. But before Astoria, there was only Pansy, and since? There’d been a fair few.

No one particularly memorable, though.

He figured he’d settle down eventually, once he found the right witch. To his utter dismay, he’d found that in order to want anything more than just sex, he needed intellectual stimulation as well. How very unfortunate for him. He had a different kind of stimulation on the agenda for this evening, though.

Finally deciding on his target—the girl in the navy cocktail dress with strawberry blonde hair, who looked on just the right side of tipsy to make bad decisions—he strode across the room. As he was about to make his introduction, he was rudely interrupted by a voice behind him.

“Oi, Malfoy! What are you doing here?”

It sounded familiar, but the words were slurred. It couldn’t possibly be—“Granger?” He turned to see the bushy haired figure barrelling towards him, clad in a tight red dress. Had she been anyone else, he might’ve taken the time to appreciate the way it accentuated her curves.

He braced himself for the blow it looked like she was about to deal him, and so was doubly surprised when she wrapped her arms around him for a sloppy hug. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He saw Hermione on occasion, as they both worked for the Ministry these days. They were civil, at times even friendly, but nowhere near hug-level status. “Well, I can’t resist free cake and an open bar.”

Hermione laughed a little too loudly and it occurred to him that she was completely pissed. Like wobbling in her heels, eyes glazed over, truly blitzed. “You’re so funny.” She grabbed his arm for stability and stumbled as she tried to remove her shoes. “Who can walk in these death traps?”

Draco held her steady as she completed her task before leading her over to a nearby table. “Certainly not you.” She huffed and a piece of her hair flew up. Somehow, this version of Hermione Granger was kind of adorable.

He forgot all about the strawberry blonde.

“Granger, how are you _ this _ drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with more than a glass of Chardonnay.”

“You said it yourself, Draco.” He shuddered a bit at her use of his first name. “Open bar.” She booped him on the nose for emphasis.

“Yes, but why did you overindulge?” He flagged down one of the house elf waiters and grabbed a glass of water for her.

She accepted the glass and drank greedily before starting to rub her feet. “I don’t know. I guess, I sort of hate weddings.”

“What? Why?” He loved weddings, or at least what tended to happen at them. Surely hopeless romantic Hermione Granger didn’t _ hate _ weddings.

“Okay, that’s not the whole truth. This was supposed to be Ron’s and my wedding. After I broke it off, the venue opened up and Hannah jumped on it. I think these were the same floral arrangements, too.”

“Oh.” Draco didn’t know what to say. It was well-known that Hermione had called off her wedding nearly a year ago. It was also pretty well-known that Weaselbee was set to marry Looney Lovegood of all people in a few months.

“Yeah. Seemed like a good time to get drunk off my arse.”

“Well, Granger,” he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “You should be thankful this wasn’t your wedding. It’s downright atrocious.”

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, and he started to worry she was about to weep, when she broke out into boisterous laughter. She clutched her stomach and gasped for air. “It really is, isn’t it?”

He joined her in laughing, not noticing at all the little creases around her eyes or how her whole face lit up, her white teeth gleaming. “You can do much better.”

She nodded, looking pensive for a moment. Then said, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay,” Draco huffed, pulling her up out of the chair. “Let’s get you to your room.”

As it turned out, he had a hard time getting Hermione to her room—mostly because she couldn’t remember which one was hers. They stumbled down the long hallway together with her adding, “This looks familiar,” every few feet or so.

“You can’t remember a number or anything, Granger?”

“I think there may have been a two or a five…” she trailed off and started clicking her shoes together in her hand.

Draco sighed. “Fine. I’ll take you to my room.”

Hermione gasped. “A bit forward don’t you think?” Then she started to laugh. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Clearly you didn’t eat enough actual dinner, or you wouldn’t be so sloshed.” He kept his hand at the small of her back as he waved his wand and let himself into his room. 

Hermione clambered onto his bed and laid down. She stared at him for a few moments before patting the mattress beside her. “I promise I won’t bite if you don’t.” She smirked—which was more infuriating than anything because that was usually his move.

“I’m going to get you some more water.” He forced her to drink another glass before she promptly passed out.

Draco eyed the free side of the bed with apprehension. He was tired, no longer buzzed, and a bit sexually frustrated. Granger had ruined all his plans for the evening. But he didn’t know how she’d react if she woke up suddenly to him sleeping beside her. He sat down in the corner chair and debated whether or not to join her on the bed for so long that he dozed off while sitting up.

When he woke up, he had a stiff neck and his limbs ached from being cramped in the awkward position. Hermione was still sound asleep, lightly snoring, with her arm draped across her middle. She had never gotten underneath the covers and her dress had ridden up on one side to reveal a wide expanse of creamy thigh. He shook his head and transfigured the chair into more of a chaise so he could stretch back out comfortably, ignoring the voice inside that urged him to crawl into bed next to her.

When Draco woke up the second time, Hermione was awake and watching him cautiously. “I’m sorry I kept you out of your bed. You could’ve slept here; I would have been fine.”

He smirked. “I didn’t want to take the chance of you not remembering what happened and trying to hex my bollocks off.”

“I wouldn’t—” she stopped as he gave her a pointed look. “Okay, maybe I would.” She grinned as she sat up and tried to smooth out some creases in her dress. “Thank you for looking after me last night. I know I was a right mess.”

He waved her off as he came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble. A drunk Gryffindor is never a good thing.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. She let out a deep groan. “Why is everyone getting married so soon? Aren’t we a little young?”

“I hate to break it to you, Granger, but you were one of those people until about a year ago.”

“I know! And thank Merlin I had the good sense to call it off when I did. Magical divorces are so much harder than Muggle ones.” She rubbed her face and Draco felt something in his chest—what was this ridiculous sensation? Empathy? Disgusting.

“You really hate Weasley that much?”

“Oh heavens, no! I don’t hate him at all. In fact, I loved him enough to save him from the horrible life we would’ve had.” She swept her riotous curls over one shoulder. “We were just a terrible match, you see. Nothing in common, disagree on almost everything—at least the sex was decent.”

Draco made a face. “I didn’t need to know that.”

She blushed. “Right. Sorry. Anyway, weren’t you engaged, too?”

“Yes and completely relieved that she had the good sense to call it off as well. You’re right, it’s much too soon to settle down.”

“Still, I wish people would just lay off.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh right, you’re a man so you probably don’t get that ‘When are you going to find a nice boy and settle down?’ nonsense that I'm constantly bombarded with.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows then quickly uncrinkled them, remembering what his mother had said about wrinkles. “My mother has been nagging me quite a bit, actually. It _ is _ traditional for a Malfoy to be settled down by now.”

Hermione tapped her chin, thinking. “And how many more weddings have you been invited to this season?”

“Two. There’s Theo’s, for which I’m best man—”

“And I’m maid of honor,” Hermione interrupted. 

He paused. Right, of course Hermione was—Theo was marrying Harry bloody Potter, of all people. “Yes, and then there’s Blaise and Ginny.”

“I’ve been invited to that one as well. Plus Ron and Luna’s wedding, which it doesn’t surprise me that you weren’t invited. So I’ve got three left and you’ve got two. How many more times are people going to bother us about our love lives at these things?”

Draco didn’t really care about any of that—he was just in it to shag unsuspecting bridesmaids. “I don’t see your point here. I usually avoid those kinds of people and go after the single witches instead.” He winked at her for emphasis.

She scoffed. “Just hear me out—we could go together. You know, say we’re involved. At least people would stop asking questions. And then after the last wedding, we could just quietly break up. What do you think?”

“I’m sorry, Granger… you want to _ what?”_

“Go together! To all the weddings—it’ll work out perfectly. People will stop asking about my love life, and if you happen to meet a girl you want to take home, I can be your wing woman!”

“My what?” Draco looked confused. 

“It’s a Muggle expression. Never mind. The point is, I think we can help each other out. What do you say?”

“I say you’ve gone barmy…” he trailed off, wanting to laugh at the ludicrousness of it. Then he started to think—not only would it appease his mother that he was taking someone seriously again, but his choice of witch would annoy his father greatly. “But it’s really not a half bad idea.”

Hermione grinned. “It’s settled then. For the next three weddings, you’re my date.”

_ Sure_, Draco thought. _ Pretend to date war heroine Hermione Granger—what could go wrong? _

* * *

He thought that agreeing to fake date Hermione Granger would be simple: show up to the wedding together, act like they like each other, maybe share a chaste kiss in front of people. But as was the swot’s tradition, she had a very detailed plan—one that she insisted on meeting in person and going over together.

They currently sat having lunch together in Diagon Alley, all the better if people were to see them, so she had said. “Excuse me, did you say ‘rules’? Whatever for, Granger?”

“Just a few ground rules, nothing too overbearing, I assure you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay then, let’s hear them.”

“For the duration of the fake relationship, you’re not to date anyone else. The same goes for me.”

Draco swirled the firewhisky in his glass. “Agreed. What else?”

“If you do find a girl you’d like to shag, you have to let me know in advance and then I’ll give you the go ahead to make your move.”

“What? You need to approve my sexual partners now?”

“Keep your voice down, Draco. We’re supposed to be on a date.” Her voice had gotten stern, and he tried to ignore the little flutter in his stomach that accompanied her tone.

He pulled his mouth into a tight line before answering. “Fine. I suppose it’ll help keep up the ruse, but if you think you get to veto any of my choices—”

“Relax. I just don’t want anyone to see you leaving with another woman and think you’re cheating on me.” She took a bite of her salad, licking her lips to catch any stray dressing. 

He sat back. “Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

She gave him a curt nod, as if to say _ Of course it does, you moron_. “And beyond that, we are not obligated for anything after the last wedding, which is Ron and Luna’s.”

Draco was oddly looking forward to parading Weasley’s ex around in front of him at his own wedding. “That all? We didn’t really need to meet for that. You could’ve owled.”

“Yes, but then people wouldn’t have seen us together.” She winked. “For instance, there’s a _ Prophet _ photographer outside, so I expect there might be a blurb in the society pages tomorrow about us being on a date.” She popped her last crouton into her mouth like she was incredibly pleased with herself.

“Touché, Granger. I didn’t realize you had so much scheming bottled up in that stuffy little school marm body of yours.”

She huffed. “School marm?”

He smirked. “If you like, I could take you shopping. Get you settled into a wardrobe worthy of Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend.”

Her cheeks started to turn pink, and he did a little victory dance inside. “Honestly, Malfoy. That won’t be necessary. I know how to dress myself.”

He snorted. “Clearly.”

* * *

Draco’s official title at the ministry was Dark Magic and Artifact Consultant. This technically fell under the DMLE’s purview, and so he often found himself in contact with Potter. Though mostly, he sat around at his desk and looked through Auror reports. It was extremely boring but better than being in Azkaban.

“Malfoy,” a grating voice near his ear sounded.

He turned to see the wunderkind himself standing there. “Potter,” he sneered.

“I saw you with Hermione at Neville’s wedding.”

Oh good, the fun was already starting. “And what of it?”

“Well, it looked like she was pretty drunk. And Seamus said you took her back to your room?”

Ah, that arsehole Finnegan. How did he even see them? Draco hadn’t seen anyone watching. Well, he supposed Harry was going to find out sooner or later anyway. “I was helping her because she was too intoxicated to make it back on her own, but if you must know—yes, we are seeing each other.”

Draco felt a little surge of victory as Harry’s eyes widened. They had resolved many of their issues—seeing as the Golden Boy was engaged to his best friend—but he knew this would still come as a shock. “Oh, well… she hasn’t said anything to me yet.” He seemed skeptical.

“It’s still new. We weren’t really ready to start telling people yet. So I’d appreciate your _ discretion._”

Potter’s eyes glazed over a bit as he nodded, seemingly choosing not to start a fight at the Ministry. That was wise of him. “Of course.” He shifted nervously and adjusted his glasses. “Um, I have other work to attend to.”

Draco smiled sweetly. “You’re a busy man.”

Harry shuffled off awkwardly, and Draco went back to staring down his paperwork. He worked for about twenty minutes, feeling pretty good about the one report he finished when he heard heels clicking on their way to his desk.

“You told Harry?” He felt the weight of her stare even without seeing her.

Draco turned to look at Hermione and his jaw dropped. She was wearing something very unlike her normal outfits—a low cut blouse showed the very tops of her breasts, which were currently heaving in an alluring fashion. Her pencil skirt hugged the flare of her hips and ended just above her knees. She also had on a sensible pair of heels as well as some light makeup that accentuated her doe eyes and pink lips. He meant to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Well? What’s happened, kneazle got your tongue?”

He shook his head, regaining his focus. “Well, Granger, if you must know—_he _ confronted _ me _ so I had to tell him something.”

“Okay. I would’ve preferred to tell him myself, but that’s fine. What’s done is done.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Had she always been this attractive? Then he remembered the Yule Ball and how she had looked at Neville’s wedding. Clearly, he’d been ignoring an important fact for far too long: Hermione Granger was fucking gorgeous. “What’s with this?” he asked, motioning up and down to her clothing.

“What?” She put her hands on her hips—why did he suddenly find that sexy?

“This getup. Much different from your normal matronly robes?”

She scoffed. “They weren’t matronly”—she paused, seeing his look of disdain—“_fine_, they weren’t great. Maybe I took your advice about updating my wardrobe a little.”

He nodded, still roving his eyes over her appreciatively. “It uh—really works. You look lovely.”

She blushed for a moment, tucking some wayward curls behind her ear. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

“Don’t mention it.” He finally pulled his eyes away and focused on the corner of his desk. “So are we good, then… about Potter?”

“Yes. I guess I was just surprised, that’s all. I had forgotten how much you interact with Harry these days.”

“I suppose you’ll let me know when our next scheduled meeting is?” He chanced another look at her. _Still beautiful, damn it._

“Well, I think we should have lunch together at least twice a week so people can see us.”

“That sounds reasonable.” He leaned back in his chair, appearing more comfortable than he felt.

“I thought so. Lunch tomorrow then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He flashed her what he hoped was a sexy grin.

Hermione smiled back and left. He kept his eyes glued to her arse for longer than necessary.

Draco sighed and cast a worried glance to the ceiling. _ This might present a problem_.


	2. Harry & Theo

Lunches with Granger were actually going great. They discussed books, politics, and the terrible life choices of their former classmates. Draco had never really been exposed to her humor before, but as it turned out she was fantastically sarcastic. He casually suggested they start eating together daily so people would think they were becoming serious.

Really he just wanted to spend more time with her.

When it was finally time for Theo’s wedding, Draco found he was actually looking forward to it. Theo was his best friend, and he was happy that he’d found the one—even if it was The Boy Who Lived. It was rather funny how they’d gotten together. After Harry’s break up with the She-Weasley, he threw himself into his Auror work, barely stopping to eat or sleep. Then he got an assignment to search Nott Manor for a dark artifact, and of course Theo was a complete arse through the whole ordeal, causing Harry to blow up and get two week suspension in which Theo provided him with ample distraction.

Draco had been present for some of it, but he has since blocked it from his memory. The early days of their relationship were quite gag-inducing for him. He would particularly care to forget the time he came in to see Potter’s pants around his ankles and Theo on his knees in front of him. He stopped Flooing without sending an owl first after that.

He was meeting Hermione at her flat before Apparating to the wedding together. He still wasn’t sure why all these couples chose to have their nuptials in out of the way locations where you had to book a room and stay the weekend. It was bloody annoying.

“Draco!” She swung the door open wide for him, and he lost his train of thought. Not only had she used his first name—as she had been doing more and more lately—but her cheeks were brilliantly flushed, and she had on the most stunning royal blue dress he’d ever seen.

“Granger, you clean up nicely.” That was an understatement, but he didn’t want to compliment her more than was necessary, lest she think he was starting to get ideas. He certainly wasn’t.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, when you’re not being condescending or insulting.”

“Who, me?” Draco asked with feigned innocence, a hand over his heart.

Hermione gave him a sly smirk. “Let’s just go, you pointy prat.”

He snickered and followed behind her, if only to get a nice view of her arse. It did not disappoint.

They made it to the Apparition Point of the small town and Draco looked around to get his bearings, still slightly miffed that Hermione insisted he side-along with her. Just because her ex was terrible at Apparating—but he understood trust issues, so he decided to let it slide. 

His eyes widened as he opened the door to their room and they stepped inside. He knew that they were pretending to be a couple, but he forgot all that entailed. Of course there was only one bed. He watched Hermione come to the same conclusion with smug satisfaction.

“Oh, well that’s rather inconvenient,” she mused.

“I suppose I could transfigure a chair or something—” Draco started.

“Don’t be silly,” she cut in. “We are two grown adults, and this bed is plenty big enough.” She plopped down on the fluffy mattress, her dress fanning out around her. 

He was thrown off by the warm smile on her face. “Are you sure, Granger?”

“Of course. Now let’s hear that best man speech.”

She sat stoically and listened while he rehearsed his speech. Draco was required to speak in front of people quite often—charity events, Malfoy family functions, and general pure-blood nonsense had necessitated the skill, so he had acquired it at an early age. However, something about using these skills in front of Hermione Granger gave him a knot in his stomach. All his jokes felt dumb, and he didn’t think his normal charm was having the intended effect as she sat and stroked her chin, nodding on occasion.

She cracked a smile once.

After he was done, he waited for her to speak. “You have to change that bit about all Theo’s past sexual partners. Harry won’t like that.”

“Yeah I guess—”

“And that joke about the hippogriff. What the fuck was that?”

Startled by her use of the word _ fuck_, Draco stammered, “I—you didn’t think it was funny?”

“Merlin, no. It was awkward.”

“Oh, okay.” He took out his note cards and crossed it off. “Anything else?”

She had a few more edits for him, and rather than fight her, he wrote them all down. She was making a lot of sense, and he knew that somewhere deep down, his twelve-year old self was berating him for taking advice from Hermione Granger. But the rest of him couldn’t be arsed to care. After he finished scribbling, he sat beside her on the bed, noting the subtle heat from her thigh against his.

“So, you want to do your maid of honor speech for me?” He raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a rather sexy way.

“I suppose so.”

Five minutes later, Draco deeply regretted asking her this, as it meant he had to actively fight off tears. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so moved in his whole life. And Ron-dumbarse-Weasley let this walk out on him? He didn’t think it was possible, but somehow his respect for the redheaded git had dropped even lower.

She smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from her dress as she asked, “What did you think? Any notes for me?”

He shook his head, waiting until her eyes found his before speaking. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Granger. It was perfect.”

Her bashful grin did something to his insides that he preferred not to investigate at this moment, thank you very much. Before he could get too lost in these dangerous thoughts, they decided to head down to the rehearsal dinner.

The hotel had a very classy restaurant on the bottom floor that had been rented out for the evening. The interior was all dark wood and low lighting—perfectly masculine without being ostentatious. He knew Theo had taste and nodded in approval as they entered the room, Granger’s arm in his.

Because Draco was the best man and Hermione the maid of honor, they were sat beside the grooms. He watched as his pretend girlfriend greeted her best friend with a kiss on the cheek and a radiant smile. He nodded to Potter and hugged Theo, with a few heavy slaps on the back.

“Nott, my good man, still want to hitch yourself to this insufferable bespectacled twit with a hero complex?”

Theo looked at Harry, and Draco could’ve sworn there were literal hearts in his eyes. “Absolutely.” He winked at his husband to be.

Draco mimed puking. “Just making sure, mate.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione warned with a pinch to his bicep.

“Ouch, alright. Let’s save it for the bedroom, eh, love?” He winked and relished the bit of color that rose to her cheeks.

“Gross,” Harry muttered. “You’re really seeing Malfoy, Hermione? _ Malfoy_?”

“Hey, I didn’t complain about your Slytherin, so don’t you start on mine.”

Harry looked like he was about to make a lame retort, but then thought better of it. Draco smirked. _ Smart man. _ Merlin, was Granger having so much of an effect on him that he was now thinking charitably towards Harry Potter? This would not do.

Soon, the food was being served and drinks were flowing, and Draco found himself having a surprisingly good time. Both Theo and Harry had money, so it was a tasteful affair. His steak was cooked to perfection and his glass of firewhisky never empty. He was pleasantly buzzed by now, and as he watched Hermione sip her third glass of Chardonnay, he tried not to think about how soft her ruby red lips looked. 

He was failing miserably.

After dinner, Theo motioned him over to the double doors at the rear of the room. It was dark beyond the thick panes of the glass doors, but once open, Draco could make out a dimly lit terrace with trees rustling overheard. 

“Join me for a cigar, best man?” Theo sported a roguish smile as he fished the cigars out of his blazer pocket.

“Of course.”

After lighting his and taking several puffs, Theo crossed his arms over the railing that separated the terrace from the rest of the grounds. “So, Granger, eh?”

“Don’t start,” Draco pleaded.

“No, I was just going to congratulate you. I know you’ve had a thing for her for—_fuck_, ages, isn’t it?”

“What? You’re off your bloody rocker.”

Theo laughed. “Do you not remember this, mate? You were _ obsessed _ back in school.”

“Yeah, I hated her guts!” Draco released a shuddering puff of smoke.

Theo just shrugged. “If you say so, man. You know what they say about little boys who pull little girls’ pigtails…”

“It wasn’t like—” he stopped short at the wicked side eye Theo was giving him. “Fine. _Maybe_ I had a bit of morbid curiosity back then, but this took us totally by surprise.”

“Okay,” Theo relented. “So what’s she like in the sack?”

Draco punched him in the arm and Theo cackled. 

“C’mon! I haven’t slept with a woman in—well, years—and won’t ever again. You might as well...” he trailed off when he noticed the look in Draco’s eyes. “Oh. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

Draco’s mouth formed a tight line. “She wants to take it slow.”

Theo started laughing again. “Oh man, you really are whipped, aren’t you?”

Draco was saved from having to answer by Harry appearing at the door. At least Potter finally got his timing right. “Sorry, Malfoy. Can I steal my fiancé back?”

“Have at him,” Draco muttered.

Harry beamed, his green eyes sharp beneath his glasses. “Great.” 

Theo followed him back inside, and Draco stayed to finish his cigar. When he made his way back in, Hermione was chatting with Harry and a bunch of other Gryffindors. Weasley was nowhere to be seen, even though he’d been there earlier. He was feeling considerably looser after another firewhisky and the cigar, so he shuffled up behind her and slid his arms around her waist.

“Ready for bed, Granger?” he murmured in her ear.

Hermione tensed under his grasp, but managed to keep her tone casual. “Just about.”

He dropped his chin to her shoulder and kept holding her while she finished up her conversation, ignoring the looks from Potter, Finnegan, and the others. It felt good making them squirm—almost as good as Granger’s firm, warm body felt beneath his fingertips. Eventually she was done and turned in his arms.

He was almost proud of the way she pushed up on her toes and whispered just loudly enough for them to hear, “Take me to bed, Draco.”

Suddenly he wished this weren’t pretend.

When they got back to the room, Hermione spun around. She was clearly tipsy, though not as drunk as at Neville’s wedding. “You were brilliant!” she exclaimed in a singsong voice before flopping onto the bed.

He sat down beside her as she stretched her limbs out. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Granger.”

She popped back up and scooted closer to him. “I mean it, though. For a moment, I almost forgot it was fake.” She was looking up at him with earnest eyes—it was quite distracting.

He swallowed thickly, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. It would be so easy to just lean in and kiss her. But that wasn’t what this was. “Me too.” He let out a shaky breath and stood before he could do something he might regret. “I gotta piss.”

Draco shut the door to the en suite and leaned against it. What the fuck was happening to him? He didn’t get like this over women, especially not _ her. _ His heart was racing and his mouth felt dry—hell, he’d never even acted like this as a teenager. He couldn’t be developing feelings for Hermione Granger, of all people. She had asked him to do this as a favor, and here he was, hiding in the bathroom, thinking about going back out there and—well he certainly couldn't do _ that. _

Instead, he tucked his more lascivious thoughts away, washed up, and headed back out into the room, only to discover her fast asleep in her dress. She hadn’t even gotten underneath the covers. He smiled down at her fondly, whispering, “Oh Granger, what am I going to do with you?”

He removed her shoes and got her more situated in the bed, not even thinking to use magic as he pulled the covers up over her. She mumbled something unintelligible as she snuggled in, and it occurred to him that he was well and truly fucked.

* * *

Draco woke up because his nose was being tickled by something. As he slowly opened his eyes in the early morning light, he realized what it was—Hermione’s hair. She was nestled firmly against him, her arse pushed delightfully up against his morning wood. She was still asleep, so he brushed the wild locks out of his face and tilted his head so it wouldn’t be a problem.

At some point in the night, he had wrapped his arms around her as well. He tried not to notice how perfectly she fit there, but he was failing miserably. And Merlin, she smelled good. “Hermione,” he whispered. “You awake?”

She moaned lightly and wriggled a bit, not helping the situation in his pants any. Fuck, he was going to need a cold shower. He tried to extricate the arm that was currently underneath her, but it was nearly impossible.

He sighed. _ If you’re actually asleep, you won’t mind if I do this. _ He tightened his arms around her middle and nuzzled her head. If anything, she seemed to settle into him further, so he closed his eyes and succumbed to slumber.

The next thing he knew, he was being slowly shaken awake. “Draco, I’m going to shower. Do you need to use the facilities before I do that?”

“Mmm… Granger, come back to bed.” He tried to yank her down by the arms, but was too weak in his sleep addled state.

Hermione giggled and pushed his arms away. “Stop! Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Guess you’re not a morning person.”

He barely registered the sound of the water before his eyes popped open. Granger was taking a shower, which meant she was naked in there. He groaned, his hard on coming back with a vengeance. Rolling onto his back, he took himself in hand. It was almost guaranteed that he could finish before she’d be done, and he needed to do something to relieve this awful tension. 

He imagined her soapy body as she lingered beneath the spray of the water and started to pump his shaft. She was probably washing those perfect tits, suds running down her luscious curves. He grunted as he came surprisingly quickly and muttered a quick _ Evanesco _ to hide the evidence before gathering his things. He might as well jump in the shower after her. He was completely naked and in the process of grabbing one of the spare towels from the linen closet to wrap around himself when Hermione exited the bathroom, steam pouring out behind her.

“Granger!” he shouted towel in hand, but not yet on his body.

“Malfoy!” she screamed in return, promptly losing her grip on the towel currently covering her own nakedness.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality probably about thirty seconds, just ogling each other. Her breasts _were_ perfect, dusty rose nipples standing at attention. His eyes tracked down her body, the curve of her abdomen and cute belly button, to the neatly trimmed thatch of hair between her legs.

Then, just as suddenly, they both covered themselves and stepped awkwardly around each other. With barely intelligible muttered apologies, they went their separate ways. As soon as he shut the door, he let out the breath he’d been holding. He was already half hard again. Fuck. What was this woman doing to him?

He turned the water all the way to cold and let that take care of his problem this time. He closed his eyes and thought, _ It’s fake. It’s all pretend. It doesn’t mean anything. _

* * *

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Draco stood behind Theo and watched his best friend pledge his life to his former mortal enemy. It was odd that this seemed so very right and natural. He tried not to steal glances of Hermione as she stood behind Harry, but how could he not? 

She had charmed her hair back into a beautiful style that was half up, half down, with tiny delicate flowers woven in the twists of hair. Her dress was a soft metallic rose gold with cap sleeves, but when she turned around, her entire back was exposed—she wasn’t even wearing a bra. When she first showed it to him, his mouth had watered. He knew what she looked like underneath that dress now and every fiber of his being wanted to drag her back up to their room and ravish her. Having his hand on her bare skin the entire walk down to the meadow out back where the ceremony was being held felt almost electric.

He had to do something to rein this in. Surely Hermione would be horrified to know the direction his thoughts had taken.

Then it was time for the speeches, and he forgot all about reining it in. Hermione got to go first and he just sat in awe as she talked about the power of love to bring people from opposite sides together. He could see Potter tearing up behind his glasses and felt a swell of pride that his witch had done that. No, she wasn’t _ his _ witch. He could still be proud of her, though. Couldn’t he?

“...because love is the candle in the darkness. Just one flame is enough to hold it back. I wish you both many years to keep your candle burning.” She lifted her glass and everyone toasted.

Draco wasn’t sure how he was supposed to follow that. Hermione sat down beside him and he reached over, letting his hand skirt her exposed shoulder blades. “That was magnificent, Granger.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, locking eyes with him. He thought he could get lost in those deep brown depths, but then Theo was clearing his throat.

Draco stood. “Right, my turn.” He straightened out the lapel of his tux-like dress robes. “When Theo told me he was planning on marrying Harry Potter, I tied him to a chair for several hours to make sure he hadn’t been polyjuiced.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Draco waited for it to die down before continuing, but his eyes were trained on Hermione—the smile on her face filling him with warmth.

After the speeches and cake, there was dancing. Truth be told, Draco had been waiting all evening for the opportunity to get Hermione in his arms again. He swept her out onto the dance floor, well aware of all the eyes in the room on them—especially the bitter look from Weasley, still seated next to his fiancée.

Draco twirled her in time to the music. His fingers danced down the expanse of exposed skin to the small of her back, and she gasped faintly as he pulled her close. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Granger?”

The faint blush in her cheeks filled him with delight. “Thank you. You also look very dashing.” She moved her hands up his chest to straighten his bow tie then slipped her arms around his neck. “Does it feel odd—that this isn’t uncomfortable at all?” 

“Should it?” he murmured. Then, before he could think about it too much, he dipped his head down and kissed her. One of his hands drifted up her back to the nape of her neck, and he felt her melt into him.

It was everything he’d been imagining and more—the feel of her soft lips on his, the way she sighed and opened to him, the gentle caress of her tongue. He could easily get carried away, but then the song ended, and he reluctantly pulled back, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

Hermione’s face was a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite suss out: surprise, desire, and something else. But he didn’t have time to say anything because someone came up beside them. “Mind if I steal her for a dance?”

It was Weasley. Draco was suddenly feeling more murderous than he had in a long time, but the subtle nod from Granger told him it would be fine. “I actually _ do _ mind, but I’ll be charitable for her sake,” he sneered.

“Draco,” Hermione admonished him.

He gave a two fingered salute as he marched off towards the bar. He needed firewhisky to combat this flare of jealousy. It was ridiculous, he and Hermione weren’t even together. Weasley was engaged to someone else. But still—the sight of her in the ginger’s arms was driving him mad. 

“Malfoy,” a voice over his shoulder greeted.

He turned around. “Potter… congrats. It was an efficient ceremony.”

Harry laughed. “Glad to see you haven’t changed _ too _ much.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint,” Draco retorted.

Harry shifted his glasses and took a sip of whatever he was drinking. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I think you and Hermione are good for each other.”

Draco nearly choked on his drink. “You do?”

“Yeah. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in awhile. The breakup with Ron was amicable, but he moved on quickly and she threw herself into work. I thought she was gonna drown—then you came along.” He smiled. “She’s more like herself around you. I can’t explain it, but then again I just married your best friend, so maybe I understand.”

Draco snorted a laugh and nodded. “I’ll drink to that.” 

He toasted Potter and watched as his former nemesis left to mingle with his other guests. Could Hermione really be feeling something for him, too? This was supposed to be all fake—a favor, nothing more. Still, he wondered…

He looked around the room to see where she’d gone, but he couldn’t find her. Weasley was now dancing with Luna, swaying with their foreheads pressed together. _Ugh, nauseating._ He made another lap around the room, but still saw no trace of her.

He checked outside on the terrace and even popped his head in the women’s toilets. “Hermione?”

No answer.

Eventually, he made his way back to their room, thinking maybe she wasn’t feeling well. When he entered, she was curled up on her side of the bed, under the covers, lightly sniffing. She had already changed out of her exquisite dress, wearing an old t-shirt and shorts. There were mascara tracks down her cheeks.

He rushed to her side and started to rub soothing circles on her back. “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Draco, you should go back down and enjoy the party. I’m fine.”

“Okay, firstly, you’re a shit liar, Granger. I can see you’ve been crying. Did Weasley say something to you? Because I’ll go kick his arse right now—”

Her hand came up to cover his. “No. Well, yes, but it wasn’t just him. I just started thinking about how happy he seemed and how happy Harry is, and I wondered if I’ll ever be loved that way again.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that. He thought he could love her that way if she would give him the chance, but that surely wasn’t what she wanted to hear at a time like this. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and laid down beside her, pulling her close. “Of course you will, Hermione,” he whispered into her hairline before placing a gentle kiss there and holding her while she cried.

As he drifted off to sleep, a singular thought flashed through his head, _ Maybe she already was. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments on the first chapter! 
> 
> Checkout the story playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5n3I9AtlkOQLlOt4MtHhYy?si=vy3m39HmQoetm0IEQ9ZtkQ). Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme).


	3. Blaise & Ginny

They didn’t talk about the kiss. When Draco woke up the next morning, Hermione was already packing. He was still in his dress shirt and trousers, now thoroughly rumpled. She rambled on about plans and what to get Blaise and Ginny for their wedding.

“Granger—”

“And I really should be getting back to check on Crookshanks… have a lot of stuff to catch up on before work tomorrow…”

“Granger—”

“So you’ll be fine Apparating home by yourself?” She looked almost manic.

“Shouldn’t we be seen leaving together?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She stopped her whirlwind of motion, placing her hands on her hips.

He got out of bed and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Everything is going to be okay, Granger. Take a deep breath.”

She did.

That was three days ago. He’d noticed that since then, Hermione had kept their lunch conversations mostly superficial. Maybe she was onto him, and she didn’t feel the same way. Maybe she was trying to discourage his growing attachment to her. He frowned over his burrata salad. 

“Hermione,” he started, and she whipped her head up since he rarely used her first name. “Is something wrong?”

She swallowed her bite of chicken sandwich. “What? No. Why would something be wrong?”

“You’ve been distant the past few days.” He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Do you want to call it off early? Because if you’re uncomfortable, we—”

“No, it’s not that!” she interrupted. “It’s just… this has been a little bit harder than I thought it would be.”

“If it’s about the kiss, I’m sorry. I can—not do it again?” Draco drummed his fingers nervously on the table, waiting for her reaction.

“No, the kiss was lovely. Very convincing, maybe _ too _ convincing.” She dropped her eyes to her food and didn’t look up at him.

Great. She was clearly uncomfortable. He’d been coming on too strongly, and he was scaring her off. “Right, well… I won’t get carried away next time.”

“Draco, that’s not what I meant.” She reached for his hand, and he pulled away.

“I don’t want to fight in public. People will think we’re on the rocks.” 

“Fine.” They finished eating in silence and left arm in arm.

* * *

A few days later, he received an owl from Pansy asking him to meet for tea. Since Draco hadn’t seen her in forever, he briefly forgot how annoying she could be and agreed.

“I need a date for Blaise’s wedding,” she whined, eyes fixed on his imploringly.

“Oh, Pans, I can’t. I’m going with Hermione… you know, my _ girlfriend. _”

“Is that still a thing?” she quipped. “I had seen you guys in the _ Prophet, _ but I didn’t think it was going anywhere.”

“Well, we are still together. Why don’t you just take a Weasley? Merlin knows there’s enough of them.”

Pansy groaned. “I can’t bring someone who’s already _ going_. You know all Ginny’s brothers will be there. I RSVPed with a plus one ages ago, thinking there’s no way I’d still be single by now.”

He carefully stirred his tea. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”

“You’re right. I still have a week.” She leaned back in her chair. “I guess I can see it, now that I think about it.”

“Hmm?”

“You and Granger. You always did have a thing for her.”

Draco cleared his throat. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Pansy smirked. “Because it’s true.” She wrinkled her nose and set her tea cup down. “Oh god, you two are going to get married and have little pointy swotty babies, aren’t you?”

Draco scoffed. “I hardly think it’s been enough time to start thinking about that.” Not to mention that he was alone in his blossoming feelings.

She grinned wickedly. “That’ll be a yes, then.”

* * *

For the love of Salazar, Draco couldn’t understand why Blaise Zabini had chosen to go back to his family estate in Italy to get married. It was hardly convenient. This meant acquiring international Portkeys for all the wedding guests. It did, however, significantly cull the guest list as a lot of witches and wizards weren’t willing to travel.

“I bet it was Ginny’s idea,” Hermione mused when he picked her up and voiced his thoughts.

“How so?”

“It takes the Weasley clan off their home turf. Molly can be a bit overbearing and the sheer volume of them is probably overwhelming even for the most powerful wizard. Blaise only has himself and his mother, right?”

“Yes,” Draco said, curious where she was going with this.

“Well, it gives them the upper hand then, doesn’t it? Also it seems likely that more of the groom’s guests will be willing to attend than the bride’s—it really is a power move.”

“Hermione Granger, has anyone ever told you you’d make an excellent Slytherin?”

She smiled and pinched his arm. “Maybe once or twice… as a compliment, I assume.”

He smirked. “Oh, it’s _ definitely _a compliment.”

He held out his arm, and much to his delight, she took it. They were headed to the Burrow to use the Portkey provided to the Weasley family. Draco wasn’t looking forward to it, but at least it would be over quickly.

He could see what Hermione meant by overwhelming as soon as the shabby home came into view. There were redheads everywhere. Why Blaise had chosen to fall for a Weasley, even if she was the least annoying one, was beyond him. But apparently they had met at one of Ginny’s Quidditch VIP events. As Blaise hobnobbed with the other wizarding elite, he found himself drawn to her. They had struck up a quiet affair, but it quickly turned into something serious when Blaise left his more sordid pursuits to spend all his free time with her.

The person he least wanted to see happened to notice him first. Ron came marching over, Luna several paces behind. “Malfoy,” he seethed.

“Weasley.” Draco slid his arm around Hermione’s waist possessively.

He waited for the idiot to say something truly inane so he could respond with a barb, but instead Ron seemed to bite the inside of his cheek, his eye twitching ever so slightly. “So glad you could join us,” he muttered in a strained voice.

Luna smiled up at him. “Well done, Ron. Much better than you practiced.” She patted his shoulder lovingly—but not unlike someone might pet their dog for performing a trick. “Nice to see you, Hermione and Draco. You make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said as he watched her turn pink again. He just loved to see the color rush to her cheeks like that.

“Do we have everyone?” Molly stormed out of the house yelling across the yard. She looked disheveled but very much in control. There was no question about who wore the pants in this family.

The Portkey was produced and everyone gathered around to touch a piece of it. Draco sucked in a breath and held it, always put off by the unsteady feeling of traveling this way. He much preferred Apparition. On the other side, they found themselves in a lush green field in front of a sprawling villa.

“Well, I see why they wanted to have it here,” he whispered to Hermione as they walked ahead of everyone else.

“Absolutely. It’s beautiful.” 

Her floral dress was blowing in the balmy breeze and he couldn’t help but stare at her for a few moments. “It really is,” he agreed, not entirely meaning their surroundings. Unable to resist touching her for another minute, he quickly took her hand and threaded their fingers together as they finished their ascent up the hill.

* * *

Behind the majestic villa, there was a rather large vineyard. In lieu of a rehearsal dinner, there was a wine tasting. The outdoor deck was done up beautifully, strings of lights casting a warm glow on the guests. The vineyard sat adjacent so everyone could look at the trees whose fruit they were now imbibing. Blaise’s mother was trying out several new red blends, all of which Draco had forgotten the names of by now—he knew more about French wine, naturally.

Hermione was currently chatting with Ginny, and he watched the two of them from his spot on the outskirts of the crowd. She sipped her wine, bringing the glass to her full, pink lips and catching a drop that lingered with her tongue. He thought about her lips and tongue a lot these days—about kissing her again and possibly other things she could do with them. Her cream colored dress really fit the occasion, and he imagined running his hands up under her skirt, the shape her mouth might make when he touched her there.

She smiled and laughed, Ginny suddenly looking over to where he was and giving a not-so-subtle wink. Were they talking about him? He had to admit, in her deep burgundy gown and a flower in her hair, she looked like she belonged here. Then Blaise approached and draped his arm around her shoulders, and Draco could immediately see it. They were definitely in love.

“I offered him a marriage of convenience, but no, the bastard had to go and fall in love. How terribly _ inconvenient_ for me.” Pansy had sidled up next to him without him even noticing.

“Merlin, Pans. Warn a guy before you sneak up. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh relax, Mr. Dramatic. I’ve been here for five minutes—you were too busy staring at Granger to notice. I swear all of you have gone soft on me.”

He turned to her and noticed she was looking quite well. She had on an emerald crushed velvet dress with off the shoulder sleeves. “And where’s your plus one?”

Pansy rolled her eyes and nodded towards where the Gryffindors were gathered. “She’s over there, chatting with an indiscriminate Weasley, I’m sure.”

“She?” Draco questioned, bemused.

“Yes. If you must know, it’s Cho Chang. She had lost her invitation before being able to RSVP and resigned herself to not going. But then she ran into me at the _ Prophet _ office, and I asked if she wanted to pretend to be my girlfriend. I thought it would stir things up a bit.” Pansy crinkled her nose as she took a heavy gulp of her wine.

“Bullshit. You _ like _ her.”

“Please. I like no one, least of all you. I did tell her if anyone asks, I’m excellent with a strap on.”

Draco snorted. “I bet you are.”

He was so amused by this turn of events that he almost missed Hermione coming beside him and sliding her arm around his middle. “There you are, love.” She kissed him on the cheek and he felt the warmth flood through him. “Oh hi, Pansy.”

“Granger,” Pansy saluted her with her nearly empty glass. “Right, well, you two are clearly about to get _ cute _ or something, so I’ll find someone else to annoy.”

“Is it just me or did Pansy seem happy?” Hermione asked.

“Oh she definitely is. I think she’s in love with Cho.”

“Huh, interesting.”

They both watched as Pansy got another glass of wine and brought one over to Cho, who accepted with a smile. “I definitely don’t hate the aesthetic of that.”

Hermione smacked his arm. “Excuse me.”

“You’re right, Granger,” he said, taking her in his arms. “You’re the only woman I want to picture naked.”

She blushed furiously and opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off with a kiss. She tasted like wine and hope—Draco’s resolve was slipping. He wanted her so badly, whether this was real or not. Still, he pulled back, running his thumbs over her jaw. “More wine?”

She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Uh, yes. I haven’t tried the Zinfandel.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed her hand and procured two glasses from a passing house elf. Then, they wandered off the wooden deck and into the vineyard. 

Hermione entwined their fingers and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. He decided not to question it and just enjoy her simple touch. “I had no idea Blaise had such a beautiful place here.”

“Me either, to be honest. He never talked about it much. I’m impressed.”

She stopped walking and turned to look up at him. He could tell by her gaze that she was slightly inebriated, just enough to loosen her lips. “Do you really picture me naked?”

That was not what he was expecting. “Granger, I haven’t been able to _ stop _ picturing it.” 

He swallowed the rest of his wine and threw the glass to the ground before scooping her into his arms and kissing her fiercely. He could taste the tannic flavor of the wine on her tongue and sucked it lightly. She dropped her glass and wrapped her arms around him, moaning into his mouth.

Without a further thought, Draco slipped his wand from his pocket and Apparated them into their room, pushing her up against the door. “Hermione,” he growled against her ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

He sucked on the skin just below her ear, eliciting the most delicious sound from her mouth. Her fingers scratched at his scalp as she ran her them through his hair. “Draco,” she sighed.

He pulled the strap of her dress down as he kissed her shoulder. “I love it when you say my name like that. I’m going to make you scream it.”

She gasped then and he nipped her skin playfully, his knee nudging her legs apart as he pressed himself against her fully. He brought one hand down and started to pull her dress up, letting his knuckles brush the silky skin of her thighs on their path up to her knickers.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded, knowing they were about to pass the point of no return.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at him pointedly. “Don’t you dare stop,” she ordered before catching his lips with hers.

With her invitation, he pulled the lace to the side and slipped a finger inside. “So wet, Granger.”

She bit her lip and arched her back off the door, giving him better access. He swirled around her clit several times before pumping into her. He quickly added a second finger, enjoying the way she bucked up into his hand. Then he pulled his fingers out and smirked before sucking them clean.

“Fuck,” she cursed.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmured before he kissed her again, pulling her up by the arse and forcing her legs to wrap around his waist. Finally, he backed up from the doorway and carried her over to the bed, setting her down as gently as possible. “What do you want?” he asked as he grazed her leg down to her ankle, slipping her red strappy heel off her foot.

“Fuck me, Draco.”

He kissed her ankle. “With pleasure, love.”

He didn’t just want to fuck her, though. He wanted her begging for it. He took his time, removing her other shoe and kissing his way up her legs. Her dress was pooled around her stomach and she leaned on her elbows, watching him with hungry eyes. She let out a cry of surprise when he grabbed her legs and yanked her towards the edge of the bed. 

“These knickers are lovely, but let’s get them off, yeah?” He pulled the red lace down, exposing her cunt to him at last. She moaned in appreciation as he placed an open mouthed kiss on her inner thigh. 

“You don’t have to—” she started but her cut her off by running his tongue through her folds.

“I told you, Granger. I want to make you scream.” He parted her legs farther and settled himself on his knees. “Merlin, Hermione. You’re perfect.”

Draco quite enjoyed eating pussy—he’d been told he was rather good at it—but sucking on Hermione Granger’s clit was like a religious experience. Her taste was sweet and pure like summer rain. He felt no desire to hurry, but let his tongue roam all her dips and valleys before slipping inside her opening. His nose brushed her sensitive nub as he did so, and her noises became increasingly desperate.

She drew frantic circles in his hair with her fingers, her body arching up and down in rhythm with his nips and sucks. She came unexpectedly the first time, a trickle of fluid escaping as she moaned loudly. Instantly he plunged a finger into her heat to feel the clenching of her muscles. It was exquisite. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

“Mmm, I don’t think so. You’re not screaming yet.” He pushed his fingers deep inside her, her channel still pulsing. He crooked them upward to reach that textured spot along her front wall and continued thrusting, returning his mouth to her clit. He was painfully hard inside his pants, but watching her come apart like this was worth the wait.

Draco hummed into her, knowing she’d be able to feel the vibrations, his fingers increasing their speed. Hermione arched off the bed again. “It’s too much, you need to—”

He sucked _ hard _ on her clit, his fingers scraping her g-spot in tandem. Her grip on his hair tightened and she screamed, “Draco!” as she climaxed again, more intensely than before if the strength with which she squeezed him was any indication.

He licked her slowly through it and registered the sound of laughter. Looking up, he saw she’d covered her face with her hands and was convulsing with giggles, tears streaming down her cheeks. He crawled over her and pulled her hands away from her face. “Hermione, you alright?” 

She let out a deep breath. “I’ve never come so hard in my entire life. I-I’ve never had that kind of reaction before.”

“Oh.” He wiped his mouth, continuing to stare at her. “You had me worried for a minute.”

“Sorry,” she replied, looking a bit sheepish. “You’re just _ really _ good at this.”

He kissed her again as her hands wandered down his torso and started to undo his pants. Feeling impatient, Draco vanished both their clothes. “Scoot up on the mattress for me,” he directed her. 

She backed up off the edge and settled her head on the pillows, smiling at him like some kind of angel. After all they’d been through, he never expected to be _ here _ with _ her_, but the sight of her naked and spread out before him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Fuck, Hermione. I don’t deserve this.”

Still, she was here and he wasn’t letting her go anywhere. He bent over her and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. That’s when her eyes widened. “Draco, you’re so _ big. _” She was staring at his cock, hard and ready against his abdomen. 

“Yeah?” The idea that he was besting Weasley in this department went straight to his head.

“Yeah,” she assured him. She looked as if she were going to say more, but then he took one of her breasts in his mouth and whatever words she might have had turned to moans.

He sucked and kissed her tits until she was writhing beneath him, then he quickly cast a contraceptive spell and lined himself up at her entrance. He groaned as he pushed inside, having to take his time even with how wet and ready she was. “You’re so tight.”

Draco closed his eyes, the feel of her velvety warmth almost too much. She was perfect, and he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to fuck another witch after this. When he was finally fully sheathed in her, they locked eyes. Nothing had ever felt like this before. He threaded their fingers together as he moved, hips gyrating slowly against hers.

This was so much more than fucking.

Already so turned on, Draco knew he wouldn’t last long. He drove into her forcefully, pulling one of her legs up to hit her more deeply. Hermione made appreciative noises, her mouth opening in ecstasy. When he felt himself on the edge, he pulled out. “Turn over and grab the headboard.”

Her eyes darkened, and she did as requested. When he re-entered her from behind she gasped and he bit down on her shoulder, rutting into her like an animal. He felt possessed, gripping her hips roughly and staring at her perfect arse as he filled her. He was completely ruined for other women now, he knew that.

The headboard banged against the wall and Draco thrilled at the idea that the other guests knew perfectly well what they were up to in here. He hoped Weasley was nearby. He moved one of his hands around to her front and stroked her clit in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, Granger.”

Her knuckles turned white on the wooden edge of the headboard as she fell apart again, his name on her lips. This time, he felt her walls clench around his cock and he followed close behind, pumping into her several times before he stilled and spurted his come deep inside her. The waves seemed endless, pleasure being pulled in delicious agony from his body, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. As she let go, they both collapsed to the bed, still connected.

“Fucking hell,” she murmured.

“I know,” he whispered back.

* * *

Draco sat beside Hermione in the ancient stone church that was part of Zabini’s family estate. It was more like a cathedral really, all delicate stained glass and menacing gargoyles. He might’ve wondered what the Zabini ancestors were like—if it wasn’t for Granger’s hand on his leg. It was mostly innocent, just resting there, closer to his knee than his groin. But still. 

He had been inside of her last night, and despite what all the tawdry witch romance novels espoused (it wasn’t his fault his mother left them sitting around in plain view), he had never felt sex with a woman to be a life changing experience… until Hermione Granger.

Blaise was reciting vows to honor and cherish. Ginny looked like some kind of ginger angel in her white dress and veil. Yet all he could think about was the woman beside him—would she possibly consider a life with him? Could she forgive him all his past transgressions and stand across from him reciting similar promises one day?

He took her hand from where it was resting and laced their fingers together, bringing it briefly to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. She looked up at him and smiled. His heart thudded, and he realized just how far gone he was.

The dull roar of everyone clapping for the happy couple barely registered to Draco. He clapped along and followed the crowd to the elaborate ballroom that was within the villa. He didn’t leave Hermione’s side for more than a few moments, neglecting to even fraternize with the other Slytherins. He monopolized her conversation over dinner and stole all her time on the dance floor. It was when Ginny came and stole her to accompany her to the toilet, that Blaise finally plopped down next to him.

“Congratulations,” Draco greeted.

“Thanks, mate. Did you ever think I’d be the one getting married?” Blaise wore an awestruck expression, like he could still barely believe it himself.

“Not really, no.” Draco smirked.

Blaise laughed and shook his head. “I suppose we’ll be hearing about your engagement next.”

“Oh I don’t know, it’s a little—”

“What, soon?” He finished for him. “Take it from me, Drake. When you know, you know.” He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing house elf and sipped it thoughtfully. “At first I thought maybe you and Granger were pretending—like maybe you both just needed a date and didn’t want to go alone.”

Draco gulped. Blaise didn’t know how close to the truth he was.

“But then I saw you dancing. The way you look at her—well, I suppose it’s a lot like how I look at Ginny. You really love her, don’t you?”

Just then, Draco caught Hermione’s gaze as she reentered the room with a giggling Ginny in tow. She waved at him and he brought his fingers up to reciprocate. “Yes,” he conceded. “I suppose I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to obsessivepropulsive for the beta! 
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme).


	4. Ron & Luna

Draco Malfoy was in love with Hermione Granger. There was no other explanation for these annoying feelings that refused to go away. He rolled over in bed and looked at the empty space beside him, imagining what it would be like if she were sleeping next to him. He knew now what she felt like in sleep, how the soft curves of her body molded to his, how she snored softly but would never admit it.

Suddenly his bed felt much too big.

He missed her. It wasn’t just now as he struggled in vain to sleep, but it was a constant, lingering ache anytime she wasn’t in his presence. It was easy to lose himself in the charade once they slept together, but he still didn’t know how she felt. The last wedding was a little over two weeks away and what if she wanted to end it all when it was over?

He didn’t think he could handle it.

Eventually he must’ve drifted off because soon the sun was shining much too brightly in his face. Draco begrudgingly got up and came to a few quick decisions about his relationship with Hermione.

* * *

“You want me to _ what?”_ Her mouth hung open like a stunned grindylow, her soup neglected in front of her.

“Have dinner. With my parents. At the Manor. Honestly, Granger, it’s not a hard concept.” They hadn’t spoken about what happened in Italy, though they still met for lunch every day that ended in a chaste kiss. He was too afraid to bring it up since their allotted time was nearly over.

“That’s not the point, Malfoy, and you know it.” He winced at her reversion to his surname. “Why on earth would I subject myself to that?”

“Well, they have been asking about you. You’re my girlfriend, Granger—what did you expect?”

She lowered her voice a little. “Yeah, but I mean it’s not—”

“Not what? Real? They don’t need to know that.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, fully aware there was nothing to absorb. “It would mean a lot to me… please?” He gave her his most sincere expression.

It seemingly worked because Hermione softened at once. “Well, alright. But I can’t promise to be on my best behavior if they’re not.”

His heart soared. “I would expect nothing less.”

* * *

“The Granger girl, really?” Lucius stared disinterestedly at the snake head of his cane. Then he used it to fluidly rise from his chair. Even with a bad leg, the man still exuded poise. 

Draco was about to open his mouth, but thought better of it as it became clear that his father was about to go on.

“Of course after your falling out with Miss Greengrass, I didn’t expect you to _ completely _ fulfill my expectations for your future, but did you have to pick the mu—” he was cut off by a sharp glance from Narcissa as she entered the room “—ggleborn?” he corrected himself.

“Despite your belief that I am merely out to sabotage your plans for me, I happen to be able to make my own decisions. In case you’ve forgotten, Father, she is a war hero and best friends with Harry Potter. If there’s anything that could raise my social standing, it would be tying myself to her.”

Narcissa smiled. “You have a point, Draco. Wouldn’t you say, dear?” She turned to Lucius.

He simply made a “Hmph” sound as he strode toward the doorway. “Bring her for dinner on Saturday, if you must,” he added as he vacated the room.

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why must he always be so difficult?”

Narcissa walked to him and squeezed his shoulder gently. “He’s still having trouble adapting to the way things are now. It will take time.” She paused, looking up to the ceiling. “Of course it would be easier if you two weren’t so much alike.”

“All I ask is that you both play nice.”

“Oh, I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised, holding her hand over her heart—so _ that’s _ where he got that from. “I just want you to be happy, Draco. That was always my dream. And if she makes you happy, then I’ll be content.”

He grinned. “She does.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see on Saturday, won’t we?” She winked as she left him alone in the room.

* * *

The week flew by and it was Saturday before Draco knew it. He waited impatiently in front of the fireplace for Hermione to show. He drummed his fingers on the mantel and sipped a glass of firewhisky. When the flames crackled signalling her impending arrival, he stepped back and schooled his face into a mask of casual nonchalance.

She burst forth from the hearth and nearly collided with him in her frantic pace. He caught her by the arms and looked into her wild eyes. “You okay, Granger?”

She was wearing beautiful deep green robes—so dark they were nearly black—and her hair had been swept into a sophisticated, low ponytail. She was positively radiant. “We need to talk, Draco.”

“About?” He gulped. He stifled the urge to kiss her.

She looked around. “Somewhere more private?”

Draco Apparated them to his bedroom. It was the first time Hermione had been inside. 

“Wow, sometimes I forget you’re richer than God,” she mused, staring at the dark wood furniture and wrought iron fixtures. His aesthetic was very tastefully sinister.

“Talk, Granger,” he prodded. Then, changing his mind, he said, “Actually, first—” he cut his own words off by doing what he’d been wanting to since she stepped into his house. He leaned in and kissed her, robbing little gasps from her mouth as she opened to him and fisted her hands in his shirt.

After not nearly enough time, she pushed him away. “This! This is what I wanted to talk about.” She heaved as she regained the air in her lungs, and he tried not to stare at her décolletage. “What happened in Italy?”

“Well, when a man and a woman are attracted to each other—” he started with a smirk, reaching for her again.

“I’m serious, Draco! What is this?” She stood with her hands on her hips, swotty as ever.

He loved her so much. “I… _ like _you, Granger. Why do we have to over analyze it?” If he could just get her to agree to keep what they already had, maybe in time she could love him, too.

“Seriously? Think about who you’re talking to, here.”

“You’re right. I should’ve known better.” He laughed and gathered her back into his arms, kissing her hair. “Have dinner with my parents. Go to the wedding with me. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

She nodded against his chin. “Okay.” Then she pulled back and looked up at him. “And after the wedding?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Translation: he had two weeks to get Hermione Granger to fall in love with him. "Let's go downstairs."

“There you two are,” Narcissa greeted from the bottom of the grand staircase.

Damn. She caught them. “Yes, Mother. Hermione had something private she wanted to discuss with me before dinner.”

“I see. Well, Effie has dinner ready.” She led them into the dining room where Lucius was waiting, standing at the head of the table.

Upon their entry, he nodded. “Draco, Miss Granger. How lovely of you to join us.” Then he sat.

They all followed suit and Effie, the head of the house elf staff, tottered about, making sure their glasses were filled and that the first course—a hearty autumn bisque—appeared in front of them.

“Tell us about your work at the Ministry,” Narcissa asked Hermione.

“Oh, well, it’s rather boring. A lot of paperwork at the moment,” Granger stated. “But I’m hoping to work my way up to Deputy Head eventually.”

“Yes, Draco knows all about boring paperwork,” Lucius added smugly.

“Better to be behind a desk than out putting my neck on the line every day like Potter,” Draco replied.

“Oh yes, I agree,” Hermione said as she put her hand over Draco’s. “I’m glad neither of us have to worry about each other’s safety on the job—plus we get to eat lunch together.” She played her part so well, he wondered if she would actually be concerned for his safety were he an Auror like Harry.

“Oh how nice,” Narcissa commented. “Though you do run the risk of getting tired of each other.”

Hermione looked at him, and he at her. “Never,” Draco stated, bringing her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss before letting it go.

He watched his mother and father share a quick knowing glance and celebrated inwardly. The rest of the meal passed in a similarly pleasant fashion. Narcissa seemed impressed by Granger’s manners and Lucius amused by her sharp wit. Not once did anything involving the war come up, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief as they rose from their chairs. 

He kept his hand on her lower back as they exited and leaned in to whisper, “Go wait for me in my room.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and let a sultry smile pull at her lips before slipping out of sight.

“Draco, could you join us in your father’s study for a moment?” Narcissa had popped her head out of one of the nearby rooms, ambient glow from the fireplace illuminating her silhouette.

His father and mother were sitting in wingback chairs in front of the fire when he entered the room. “It pains me to say it, but I think Hermione Granger is a wise match for you, Draco.” Lucius’ face took on a strained look as he finished the sentence.

“You almost got through that without a hint of derision. Well done, darling,” Narcissa quipped from her place across from him. He offered her a sarcastic grin as she passed Draco a small, velvet box. “It’s your grandmother’s ring. When you’re ready, you can give it to Miss Granger.”

Draco was stunned. “I—really?”

“Yes, really,” his mother said. “We were using this dinner as a litmus test. Not only did she handle herself well, we could tell you’re really in love. And you were right about the political benefits of having a war hero in the family.”

He accepted the box and put it in his pocket. “Thank you.”

As soon as he was out in the hallway, he Apparated himself back to his room to find Hermione sprawled out on his bed, reading one of his books. She looked so at home that suddenly the idea of the ring in his pocket didn’t seem so out of reach.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Granger.”

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear,” she read aloud from the book. He shivered with the meaning behind the quote she chose. “Really, Draco? I didn’t take you for a Brontë fan.” She rolled onto her back, setting the book on his nightstand.

“I have a broad palette, what can I say?” He loosened his tie and pulled it off, tossing it to the side as he moved to the bed and began to crawl on top of her. “Also, did you know that rumor has it as least one of the Brontë sisters was a witch? My bet’s on Emily.”

He watched her contemplate that for a moment but didn’t give her a chance to respond before he started kissing her. Hermione moaned and wrapped her arms around him, giving in. His hand was halfway up her skirt as he murmured, “Stay the night?”

“Yes,” she panted as he pushed her knickers to the side and dipped into her wetness.

* * *

Draco woke up from the best night’s sleep he’d had since—well, since the last time he’d spent the night with Hermione. He smiled with the memory of her naked and writhing beneath him the night before. The sounds she’d made, the way she arched into him, the way her body hugged him perfectly as he slid inside her. He’d made her orgasm several times before he pumped her full of his come. And now, she was still in his arms, snoozing.

He was perhaps the luckiest wizard alive.

He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her temple gently. She didn’t stir, so he felt bold enough to whisper, “I love you, you know.” His fingers trailed down her skin, drawing delicate circles into her hip. 

As he was about to replace his fingers with his mouth, a loud crack sounded in the room. “Is Master wanting breakfast?” Effie asked exuberantly. Seeing Hermione, she narrowed her eyes and continued, “Mistress specifically asked if _ Miss Granger _ will be needing breakfast, too.”

Draco groaned as Hermione stirred beside him. He couldn’t hide anything in this house.

* * *

Two weeks went by incredibly fast, considering they were the best two weeks of Draco’s life to date. He and Hermione still ate lunch together every day, but in addition to that she was also letting him take her out to dinner several times a week—or she’d cook for him at her place and they’d fall into bed afterwards. 

All the stops had been pulled in an effort to woo her. This past week on Monday, he had flowers sent to her desk. On Tuesday, it was chocolates from his favorite shop in Paris. Wednesday he made a sizable donation to her House Elf Education Project. Thursday, he broke her out of work early for a special Muggle art show at The National Gallery. And today—well, today he had the _pièce de résistance_—a first edition copy of _ Jane Eyre_, printed in 1847.

The plan was to take her to dinner and present the gift. Tomorrow was the dreaded Weasley-Lovegood nuptials, and Draco was glad that if he had to attend this one, at least it wasn’t out of town. The ginger idiot had taken the predictable (read: cheap) route and decided to get married at the Burrow.

They sat at the upscale restaurant, sipping red wine and waiting for their meals, when he produced the wrapped present for her. “What’s this?” She raised an eyebrow and reached for it.

“Something almost as rare as you,” he teased.

“Draco, you’ve been spoiling me. I don’t need—” her words were stolen as she unwrapped the gift. Hermione always acted like she appreciated his other gestures, but he knew the true way to heart was a good book. “Oh,” she remarked as she pulled the book out and opened it. “This is—this is too much. It’s a first edition?”

“It is.” His eyes sparkled with delight.

“Thank you,” she whispered just as the waiter came over with their food. Her eyes were glistening and it thrilled him to see her so moved that she was fighting back tears. 

She thanked him later by riding him into oblivion—breasts bouncing delightfully above him as tendrils of her sweat-soaked hair stuck to her neck.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had gone soft. It was the only explanation that made sense of the tears threatening to spill over at the moment. He sat beside Hermione watching Luna walk down the aisle in her dress, which looked white at first glance, but when one looked closer was actually a mix of pastel colors—yellow, blue, pink, violet, all swirling in an iridescent haze. She had delicate little flowers intricately woven into her hair, which had been twisted and curled into a beautiful waterfall style.

Ginny, who had just returned from her own honeymoon, served as maid of honor and held Luna’s extensive train, which she had assured the guests had been tested for nargle infestation. To his great credit, Ron was absolutely beaming as he waited for her at the front.

“They make an odd pair, don’t they?” Draco had asked as they were getting ready to Apparate there earlier in the day.

“It makes sense to me,” Hermione said. “One of the many problems with Ron and myself was that I was constantly losing my patience with him. Luna is the most patient person I know.”

Draco paused and looked at her. “You’re actually happy for him, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. They’re going to have a happy life together.”

“Granger, you hopeless romantic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, as if you aren’t the same.” She punctuated this with a kiss on his cheek. “Besides, if I hadn’t called things off with him, you and I wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well then, maybe I should thank him.”

She winked. “Maybe you should.”

He turned his attention back to the happy couple reciting their vows and threaded his fingers through Hermione’s. The way she briefly looked up at him set his heart beating faster. He wasn’t alone in his feelings anymore—she definitely cared for him, too. Maybe not quite as deeply, but he could wait.

The reception was also on the grounds of the Burrow, and Draco thought they had done a decent job of making it into something not completely an eyesore. There were several large, open tents with lights strung up in the rafters. Colorful fairies flitted amongst the lights, casting a glow of changing colors on the ground below, the same shades as Luna’s dress.

The food was delicious—no doubt prepared by Molly Weasley herself. There were meats and veggies in delectable sauces, tarts and pastries piled high on serving platters, and a gorgeous seven-tiered wedding cake with an assortment of magical creatures painted into the frosting. It was very fitting.

Luna walked to the front of the dance floor as all the unmarried women gathered together before her. “What is this?” Draco asked.

Hermione smirked. “It’s a Muggle tradition I told her about, and she absolutely loved it. She’s going to toss her bouquet and whoever catches it is destined to get married next.”

He patted her back, ushering her forward. “Better get a move on it then, Granger.”

Hermione caught the bouquet, and he made up his mind, fingers caressing the velvet box in his pocket. _ No time like the present. _ She ran back over to him, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I did it!”

“You certainly did!” he commended her, giving her a quick kiss.

She lowered her voice and said, “It doesn’t actually have to mean anything. It’s just for fun. I don’t want you to fr—”

She stopped speaking as Draco dropped to one knee, ignoring the gasps of people around them. He briefly looked over to see Ron fuming and Luna swooning, but decided making Weasley mad was only icing on the cake. “I love you, Hermione Granger. I love everything about you, and these past several months have been the best of my life. Would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

“Draco,” she breathed. Her eyes dropped from his to the ring, the ridiculously large diamond bracketed by triangle cut emeralds and smaller diamonds—it was probably too much, he should have refused it and gotten her a more simple one. “Yes,” she said at last. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” he stammered before putting the ring on her finger and rising to embrace her. As soon as he did so, she twisted and Apparated them both away.

Draco shook his head, thrown off by the abrupt change of scenery. “Where are we?”

Hermione looked furious—or devastated, he couldn’t tell which. She was clearly on the brink of tears. “_What _ was that?” she demanded.

“What, me asking you to marry me? I believe it’s called a proposal.”

“Not—I know what it’s called, you insufferable smart-ass!” She stared at the ring on her finger, the giant diamond catching a hint of moonlight through the small window. “What is this?” She held her hand up for inspection.

“My grandmother’s ring that—”

“Is any of this real?” she yelled, and Draco quickly cast a silencing spell on the room, in case anyone was around.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s bloody real!” He grabbed her face with both his hands. “What do you think these last two weeks have been? The presents and the dinners and—the _ fucking?”_

Her resolve started to falter. “I don’t know… I guess I thought—we never said anything officially—”

“Do you need me to draw up an official letter? Dear Hermione Jean Granger, I am hopelessly in love with you and wish to spend the rest of my life with you. Please respond at your earliest convenience. Signed, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

She inhaled sharply. “You do?”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, kissing her hard. “Hermione, I have been in love with you since Theo’s wedding. I didn’t want to scare you off or have you stop this whole charade before it was over, so I thought if I dialed it up a notch, I could get you to feel the same way before the last wedding.”

“So the proposal is real?” She blinked several times and looked at the ring again.

“Do I look like a man who’s pretending right now? Do I look like a man who wouldn’t burn down the world for you? Please,” he urged, drawing her hand to his heart. “Do you not feel how this heart beats for you alone?”

She sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut as several tears escaped. “I love you, too. I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I was afraid you were just a _ really _good actor. I didn’t think—with our history—that it was possible you’d feel the same way.”

“Have I not groveled and scourged myself enough for that yet? Because I can, you know. Whatever you want from me, I’ll do. I know nothing can atone for—”

She cut him off with a kiss. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

He sighed. “Well, that’s a relief.” He rested his forehead against hers. “It would’ve been an awkward marriage if you didn’t.”

She laughed. “So you really want to bind yourself to me... forever?”

“Desperately.”

Hermione dropped to her knees, and Draco gave her a questioning look.

“Granger, what are you doing?”

“Well, it seems that I’ve put you through somewhat of an emotional ringer. I feel like I should make it up to you.” She started unzipping his trousers. “Did I mention this is Ron’s old room?”

He was instantly hard with her naughty smirk as she stared up at him. “Oh is it?”

She nodded. “Think of how much he’d hate it to know I sucked you off in here.”

Draco was about to respond, but she had already pulled him free of his pants and planted a kiss on his leaking tip. He let out a strangled groan as her hot tongue licked down his length and back up again. “Fuck, Hermione.”

She took him deep inside her mouth and hummed her response, the vibrations so good they made him feel lightheaded. He buried his fingers in her hair as she bobbed up and down, hollowing her cheeks out and giving a hard suck. The wet warmth of her mouth was sheer perfection. Draco could feel the tightening in his balls and knew he didn’t have much longer.

He gently tugged on her hair. “Love, please stop or I’m gonna come.”

She released him gently, licking her excess saliva from his cock. “You can come in my mouth, that’s fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, tucking that info away for later. “But I’d much rather come inside your pretty little cunt.”

She rose and he backed her up into a dresser against the wall, licking and nipping inside her mouth. She tasted like him, which thrilled the part inside him that desired to possess her body and soul. She was _ his. _

“Turn around,” he ordered, rucking her pale pink dress up. He placed her palms on the dresser and bent her forward, shoving her knickers to the side and thrusting two fingers inside. “Oh Granger, you’re so wet for me. Did sucking my cock turn you on?”

“Yes,” she groaned as he pressed the pads of his fingers into her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Draco, please,” she begged.

He grabbed himself and pushed inside her swiftly, eliciting a nearly inhuman sound from her. He kissed the back of her neck as he fucked her, the lace of her knickers scraping him on each thrust. “You feel so good,” he murmured against her ear. 

Sex had always been enjoyable for Draco, but sex with Hermione wasn’t just fun, it wasn’t a good fuck, it was making love—and it was sheer bliss. The slick, velvet of her cunt as he slid in and out was far and away his favorite feeling. He snaked his hands over her hips and around to the front, stroking her clit as he pounded her. 

She slapped the top of the dresser and screamed out, “Draco!” as she came, her muscles spasming around him euphorically. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the heat take over as he followed. He grabbed her waist and held her in place, driving back in once, twice more before he stilled and coated her insides with his spend. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated as he came down from his high.

When he finally regained composure he noticed Hermione was staring at the ring on her finger. He pulled out and put her underwear back in place, casting a quick cleansing charm for their combined fluids. “So I’m guessing that’s still a yes then?”

She turned around, putting her hands on his chest. “Don’t be daft. _ Of course _ it’s a yes.”

“Should we go back down to the wedding?” he asked.

“Maybe we should just go home. I’d very much like to be wearing _ only _ this ring.” She gave him a wicked look.

“Oh, you gorgeous witch. You’re going to be the death of me.” Draco looked at his fiancée in awe.

“Let’s hope not anytime soon,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end! Or is it... I have been tinkering with the idea of an epilogue so we shall see. Subscribe to be notified when it posts! 
> 
> I'm also using NaNoWriMo to work on my new Dramione story, Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time. Look for the first chapter around Christmas or the first week of January.
> 
> Thanks again to Raven_Maiden for being born and inspiring this story and to obsessivepropulsive for the beta!
> 
> Also, here's a [link to Hermione's ring](https://www.sofiakaman.com/jewelry/vintage-jewelry/art-deco-jewelry/vintage-platinum-art-deco-diamond-engagement-ring/), in case you were curious.


	5. Draco & Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the long-awaited epilogue is finally here! Sorry this took so long. I had planned to post around Christmas, but then Star Wars threw me for a loop, and I got sucked back into Reylo for awhile (as well as spent the holidays depressed but I digress).
> 
> So without further adieu, here is some wedding fluff and smut.

“Wow,” Hermione mused, looking up at the enormous French villa.

“I’ll say. My parents have been holding out on me.”

“Didn’t you say you came here as a child?”

“Yes, Granger, but I was probably five. My mind is vast, but not all powerful.”

Hermione mock gasped. “Surely not the great Draco Malfoy.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” he teased before pulling her close for a lingering kiss.

When he finally let her breathe again, she whispered, “In a few days you won’t be able to call me Granger anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll always be Granger to me. Besides, I thought you had decided on hyphenating.”

She smiled. “I did. I’m just tooling with you.”

He swatted her on the arse as they finished walking up the path to the villa. He kept thinking there was no way possible he could love her any more, and she kept changing his mind daily.

The truth is Draco would’ve married her anywhere. He was ready to marry her the day after he proposed. They could have had a simple wedding at the Manor, or even just gone to the Ministry and had it done with—but Hermione, being the mastermind that she was insisted they have the most elaborate, out of the way, destination wedding just to stick it to all the people who made them travel.

Not that Draco was complaining about that; it was, after all, how he fell in love with her. And who was he to argue with such a brilliant idea? 

As they entered the beautiful mansion, Narcissa greeted them, already involved in directing a team of house elves in cleaning and decorating the place. “Draco, dear!” she exclaimed, sweeping over to embrace him.

“Mother,” he responded.

“And Hermione,” she kissed her soon to be daughter-in-law on the cheek.

“Narcissa, lovely to see you.”

“This place was in shambles, I swear. Can’t trust the French cousins with _ anything. _” She waved her wand towards the front of the house and all the curtains drew back, letting in the light. “But don’t worry—everything will be perfect for your big day.”

“Where’s father?” 

“Oh he’ll be along tomorrow, I suppose. I wanted to come early and make sure everything was in ship-shape and thank Merlin I did.”

Draco grinned. His mother had gone into full event planner mode, and there was nothing he could do now to stop her momentum. “Excellent. We appreciate your attention to detail.” She nodded. “Hermione and I would like to get settled in first, could you point us in the right direction?”

“Of course, darling.” She pointed her wand at the floor and a green arrow appeared on the tile. “Just follow the arrow.”

It turned out the villa was nearly as big as the Manor. Draco and Hermione walked up the grand staircase and all the way down the spacious east wing before finding their room. It was an enormous suite, already decked out in romantic jewel tones with fresh flowers all around. 

“Well, this is a tad overboard, don’t you think?” Hermione stood assessing the room. 

Draco looked at the silk sheets. “Not at all, my love. What do you say to testing out these sheets?”

She put her hands on her hips. Damn it, she knew he thought that was sexy. “We said no sex till the wedding night, remember?”

“Yes, but Granger—it’s been a week already! I’m dying without you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She sauntered over to him and slid her arms around his neck. “Think of how explosive it will be with all this anticipation.”

How dare she. He was half hard already just with the tone of her voice. “Mmm,” he hummed against her neck as he kissed down her delicate skin. “But do you think _ you _ can wait?” He flicked his tongue against her collarbone, in that way he knew drove her crazy.

Hermione pulled him back up to cover his mouth with hers. She kissed him long and slow, letting her tongue slip lazily into his mouth to twine with his. His fingers dug into her hips as she kissed him. Fuck, she was good. When she finally pulled back, he was breathless. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a handle on the situation.” She smirked.

“I hate you,” he muttered.

“I love you, too,” she intoned, kissing his nose before moving to unpack her things.

Draco knew his fiancée and that she was just as turned on as he was. He knew if he slipped his hand into her knickers, she’d be wet. But he also knew what a stubborn Gryffindor he was about to marry. Hermione Granger never backed down from a challenge, especially one of her own making.

He decided to let her win and began unpacking his own suitcase.

* * *

Draco had to admit, his mother really did have an eye for interior decorating. The ballroom of the villa had been fixed up beautifully for the rehearsal dinner. The ceiling had been enchanted to reflect the sky and was awash in glittering stars on an inky background. Candles floated around the room, giving a glowing ambience.

The caterers were starting to set up, and he knew that Hermione wanted him up front to greet their guests. He made his way up there and paused to admire her from behind. She was wearing a crimson gown that hugged her hips tightly before flaring out at the bottom. Her bum looked like a work of art.

He sidled up behind her and kissed her neck, appreciating the way he had swept up her generous curls. “You look magnificent.”

She smiled and turned her head to give him a quick kiss with ruby lips. “You look rather dashing yourself.”

Draco straightened and tugged on the ends of his coat. He was wearing sleek dress robes in black and an emerald tie. After all, they had chosen a December wedding so it wouldn’t be gauche to use red and green as their colors. That, and they had hoped it would discourage too many people from showing up.

They were wrong.

Theo and Harry were the first to arrive, strolling up the winding lane hand in hand, thick coats sheltering them from the cold.

“Think the Portkey’s kinda far from the place, yeah?” Theo muttered as he clapped Draco on the back.

“I thought people might want to make an entrance,” he retorted.

“That’s just you, mate,” Harry said.

“And probably Pansy,” Hermione added, rolling her eyes.

“True,” Theo conceded. “Can’t believe you’re finally settling down.” He turned to Hermione. “Are you sure about this miscreant?”

She smiled, but Draco still felt a little tremor inside when she said, “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Gross.” Harry kissed her on the cheek and pushed past Draco, squeezing his shoulder as he slipped inside.

* * *

“So much for your master plan,” Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear, letting his lips graze her lobe. A few wisps of hair had come loose, and he brushed them back.

“Well, at least they all had to trudge up here in the cold.” She turned to him and smirked. They were mingling at the back of the room but somehow found each other amidst all the other guests. 

He hummed his approval and handed her a glass of champagne. Nearly everyone they had invited showed up. His eyebrow raised as he looked over to the corner of the room to see Pansy and Cho with their heads bent together, clearly conspiring.

Hermione accepted the glass, toasted him and took a deep sip. “Are you surprised that’s lasted?”

He shook his head. “Not really. What Pansy needed was someone who could keep up with her. I think they’re actually good together.”

She smiled and slipped her hand in his. “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow.”

“I assure you the feeling is completely mutual.” He leaned in to kiss her and was planning for it to last a bit longer, but a throat clearing rudely interrupted them. Draco looked to see who would dare and—“Weasley.”

“I just wanted to say congratulations to you both in case I didn’t get a chance tomorrow.” He held his hand out to Draco, who reluctantly took it and shook. “You guys are actually perfect for each other, and I’m really glad Hermione is happy. In fact,” he paused, looking at her. “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you, ‘Mione.”

“Thank you, Ronald.” She left Draco’s arms to give Ron a hug. “I’m really glad you and Luna could make it. I know you just came back from your trip to find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

“Yeah, well… you think this is cold, you should see Sweden this time of year.” He laughed and then returned to his table where Luna was waiting.

Draco looked down at his fiancée. “Will wonders never cease?”

She playfully pinched him in the arm. “Come on, let’s say our goodnights. I’m tired and we have a big day tomorrow.”

* * *

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Ah, fuck. _

It wasn’t working. Draco repeated the mantra over and over to himself, but the minute he saw Hermione at the end of the aisle he was done for. She looked near angelic in a vintage dress that had an intricate long-sleeve lace overlay. It was from a Muggle boutique but had been enchanted so the flowers in the lace moved as if caught by a breeze. Her hair was swept up in an elegant fashion with copious curls spilling over, and at Narcissa’s behest, she wore a very modest tiara.

In short, his witch was the most beautiful, ethereal creature to ever walk the earth. 

Harry walked her down the aisle, which Draco did think was a strange choice at first. But considering Hermione’s own father currently resided in Australia with no clue as to who she was—and the rest of her father figures were dead—he was the best option. How often he forgot how much she’d been through to get where she is now.

He would gladly spend a thousand lifetimes making it up to her.

The closer she got, the more he could see her face—which held a mixture of anxiety, but also unabashed happiness. She was practically beaming, and his heart soared. When Harry brought her to the front, he quickly whispered, “Harm a hair on her head, and I’ll kill you myself.”

For once, Draco couldn’t agree more. “Noted.” He winked at Hermione before they turned to the minister and mouthed, “I love you.”

Draco quickly scanned the rest of the people to see his mother tearing up and his father with a slightly softer expression than usual. Lucius had really warmed up to Hermione in the past few months, and it gave him hope for the future. He’d hate to have to choose between them, though he knew the witch beside him would be his first priority from this moment on.

Then they pledged their lives to each other. After the vows were finished—the standard ones as Hermione didn’t trust him not to wax poetic about her hair for twenty minutes—he pulled her into his arms, dipped her low, and proceeded to disgust their guests with the most over-the-top kiss ever. He regretted exactly none of it.

* * *

Draco’s hands splayed over the bodice of Hermione’s gown. The lace flowers were moving in delicate swirls, but he had the most pressing desire to strip her out of the dress. He nipped her ear lobe and whispered, “I need you.”

“We haven’t even had dinner yet,” she groused.

“There’s only one thing I’m hungry for.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and delighted in her chuffed giggle.

“I _ do _ want to eat, you know—but, if you’re quick about it, maybe we could sneak away for a few.”

“How romantic.”

“You’re the one who’s desperate,” she chided, casting a surreptitious glance at the rest of the room before cupping him through his suit pants.

“Fucking hell, woman.” He dragged her by the hand through the ballroom where their reception was in full swing and ignored any attempts from others at getting their attention.

Hermione laughed the whole time she sprinted with him down the hall, looking for an appropriate room. Draco finally opened the door to a small sitting room and pulled her in, locking and soundproofing it with a flick of his wand.

“Fifteen minutes, tops.” Her mouth formed a stern line, and he definitely planned on kissing that away.

“Excellent, then we have time for you to come twice.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it on a nearby chair.

“Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“Me? Never.”

She let out a little squeak as he pushed her up against the door and practically attacked her mouth. Their kisses were fiery and frantic, as starved as they’d been for each other over the past week. Hermione’s tongue pushed its way inside his mouth first, and he counted it as a small victory—that she was suffering as much as he was.

“Draco,” she panted when he pulled back to trail kisses down her neck. “Don’t leave any marks, we still have to go back out there.”

“Glamour charms, darling,” was his only reply as he lowered himself down her body and started the arduous task of hitching up the skirt of her elaborate dress. He could just vanish it, but where was the fun in that?

Underneath, her sensible white heels were covered in lace as well, with a dusting of pearls on the front. He hadn’t seen them before underneath all the other material. He quickly slid them off and kissed the top of her foot. Her skin was so soft.

“You’re wasting time,” she muttered, gathering the material in her hands to help him.

“Shhh, my love. Patience.” He quickly kissed up her leg and sucked a bruise into her inner thigh before peeling down the delicate lace thong she had on. Then he slid her leg up over his shoulder, opening her wider to his eager tongue. How he’d longed for her taste.

“Fuck,” Hermione groaned as his tongue painted a delicate rhythm on her clit. “I’ve missed this.” She ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, scraping softly at his scalp.

Draco grinned into her and increased both his pressure and speed. One of his points of pride was seeing just how many times he could bring her to orgasm before finally fucking her. He slid two fingers inside and quickly found that spot that drove her insane, thrusting and rubbing with vigor.

It took all of two minutes for her to come apart on his tongue, his ego expanding as he licked at the sensitive muscles still pulsing with pleasure. Her breathing was ragged and heavy as she whispered nonsense in the haze of her euphoria. The leg she was using to brace herself trembled from supporting her weight, and he knew they needed to move.

Turning around, Draco spotted a chaise lounge in the room—all cream colored velvet and mahogany wood. _ That’ll do. _ He picked Hermione up and brought her over to it, depositing her there softly before shucking off his trousers. Her carefully laid them over the back of the chair so as not to get wrinkles.

“You are so dramatic,” she teased, spreading her legs wider for him so he could see how ready and glistening she still was.

“And you love it,” he mused, freeing his cock and kneeling on the cushion before her. 

“I do.” Her smile was decadent as she leaned forward and gathered the little pearl of pre-come from his tip with her finger, promptly slipping it into her mouth. “Mmm.”

Draco shuddered and positioned himself at her entrance. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Then he slid in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, drawing out the relief of coming home after a long time away.

They moaned in unison as he sheathed himself to the hilt, her hands gripping his arms tightly. It had only been a little over a week, but he’d gotten so used to having her almost every day that it felt like an eternity. “Granger,” he breathed.

She shifted her hips beneath him as he bucked into her. “That’s Granger-Malfoy to you.”

“Fuck.” He pistoned into her with all the fervor of a man who’d been lost at sea only to return to his beloved. He wouldn’t last long. He brought his thumb to where they were joined and pressed firmly on her swollen bud, coaxing her release along.

The noises Hermione made during sex were like music to his ears. He loved the increasing intensity of her moans and gasps like the crescendo in a maestro’s symphony. He couldn’t believe his very fine fortune that he would get to elicit this type of reaction from her for the rest of their lives. 

She was silent when she came, her mouth parting into a perfect O shape and her eyes rolling back as they shut. The only thing that announced her orgasm was the clenching of her fingers on his arms and the spasming of her cunt around his cock. He was going nearly delirious with ecstasy and quickly followed her into bliss, holding her still as he pumped her full of his spend.

“God,” she murmured right before he slid out.

He smirked. “‘Draco’ or ‘husband’ will do just fine.”

She slapped him but laughed anyway. “Come on, let’s get back out there.” She cast a quick _ Tergeo _ for the mess between her thighs, and they straightened themselves out enough before heading back to the ballroom.

Draco wore a cocky grin as he escorted his wife back into the reception. Between his demeanor and Hermione’s flushed cheeks, he doubted they were fooling anyone as to what they’d just been up to.

And that was perfectly fine with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Chapter 1 of my next Dramione story is currently with raven_maiden, so I'm hoping to post soon (the end of this month or beginning of Feb). Make sure you're following me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme) or [tumblr](https://monsterleadmehome.tumblr.com/) for updates!
> 
> Also if you're into Reylo, I have a canon divergent fic that is my current WIP. It's called [Spare and Found Parts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736177) and starts a few years before TFA.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme).


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